


A Double Rescue in Lakeside

by bluetoast



Series: Angels and Ministers of Grace [18]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Animal Shelters, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Origin Story, Pet Adoption, Pets, abuse recovery, getting back on your feet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 01:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: Ben Solo's psychiatrist has given him a job that seems simple enough; adopt a pet. The good doctor feels that he needs something to 'worry over' and help him recover from his toxic relationship with Bazine. He heads to the animal shelter with only two specific things: he wants a cat, and he's not getting a kitten. What he finds inside a cage in the cat area is a black fluff-ball that some idiot named Midnight.Written for HC Bingo - Dungeons





	A Double Rescue in Lakeside

**Author's Note:**

> While I've placed it at number 18, this story takes place three years before the events of "The Summer Before"

The futon played hell with Ben's back. Of course, sleeping in a fetal position in any bed would be bad for him, but with the lack of decent support on the wooden slats and a mattress still stiff despite being several years old, he wasn't surprised by the wretched sleep. But the back bedroom was safe. So few places in his apartment were these days. He rolled over onto his side, wincing at the popping joints, and slowly unfolded the sheet of paper he had looked at at least a dozen times since Monday. 

“Animal shelters in Chicago.” He glanced at the words and then, closed his eyes, remembering when his psychiatrist had handed it to him. 

_“You need something to care for, Ben. I want you to do this. Even if it's just a fish, you need something to worry over so you don't spend all your time worrying over yourself.”_

“Who the fuck wants a fish?” He folded the sheet and pushed himself up to a sit, rubbing the sleep from his face. “What a worthless pet.” He stretched his arms up, yawning. A fish seemed about the most pointless of his options. Having grown up in the equivalent of a human fishbowl, he didn't need to have a real one sitting somewhere in his apartment, with one lone little creature swimming endless circles, isolated and detached.

The only one of his friends who had a pet growing up was Nate. The Turabians had a lab mix named Pete, who'd been extremely affectionate and could play ball for an entire afternoon, and there had been days like that. Days before high school and their circle of friends fell into ruins. Pete had passed away two years ago, at the staggering age of seventeen. He could still remember Jen, of all people, crying over the phone like the dog had belonged to her.

The Quirks never had pets because everyone in the family, except Jennifer, had raging pet allergies. 

The Organa-Solo had no pets because they didn't have time for each other, let alone an animal. 

“No dog.” He looked at the sheet of paper again, and then rose to his feet, walking out of the back bedroom and towards the kitchen. “Too needy.” He added water to the coffee machine, then leaned back against the counter, arms folded as he waited for it to heat. “You need a yard for a dog.” He glanced upwards at the ceiling, knowing that two floors above, the Phasma's tiny corgi-husky mix puppy was bounding around their apartment with glee. “Proper dogs, that is.” 

It wasn't that Alder wasn't a good dog, in fact, he was a great dog – but Ben believed that if you were going to have one, you needed something that screamed _dog._ Not something that was never going to reach the smaller of his two owner's knees. Leslie Phasma was a full foot shorter than him and the dog was currently little enough to sleep in any of Gwen's shoes. He reached over and pulled his mug from the drying rack, running his thumb along the text. _Coffee: Because crack is bad for you._ He smirked and pulled a pod from the basket next to the coffee pot. 

The Kreiug had been his Christmas gift last year from his grandma. The old Bunn coffee maker had been among the few things that Aunt Sabe had taken with her to Scottsdale last September. He'd used her old percolator pot until grandma had caught sight of it and had been horrified. _It's the twenty-first century, BB, you don't need to be using something designed for the brunch parties of the nineteen seventies!_

He set the mug in place and dropped the pod – Colombian roast – into place and waited for it to brew. 

The pet idea had been turning over in his mind all week, and he knew he could not go back to Doctor Andres and tell him that he'd not done as he asked. He'd have to go to the nearest shelter, he had no idea what he was getting into. It was Friday, and he supposed that three days wasn't much time to 'bond' but it would be a start. 

“Guess that means I'm getting a cat.” The coffee finished and he reached over to take the mug, and he smiled over the rim before he took a sip. “No kitten. I'd probably break the poor creature.” He shook his head, looking slowly around the room. He could put a litter-box in the bathroom, or would the animal need two? The feeding dish could fit in that gap next to the fridge and the pantry. The people at the shelter would tell him what all he'd need to do. He closed his eyes as he took another sip of coffee, thinking of what sorts of cats there were. 

The idea almost seemed outlandish, going down to an animal shelter and picking out his first pet, as if he were a boy of seven or eight, finally old enough to be trusted with the responsibility. Ben Organa Solo was going to be twenty-one in December. 

He opened his eyes and walked slowly out of the kitchen, smiling slightly as he crossed to the couch, sitting down tentatively. The couch was another safe place in the apartment. It was long enough, he might try sleeping here tonight. He took a drink from his mug and felt some of the tension in his body leave. Having a pet meant he'd have to clean more often. He didn't mind having to do so. His life had always been spiraling in one way or another, keeping things clean were one of the few things he had control over. 

How many times had he cleaned the house in Buffalo from top to bottom? 

Ben snickered and then his smile fell slightly. Jordan used to pay him to clean his room for him. It wasn't that Jordan had been a messy guy by nature, but he was easily distracted and always had about seven projects going at once. He always insisted that Jordan _didn't_ need to pay him, and it wasn't always money. He usually paid in food. The week after his friend's death Ben had found an envelope in his locker at school, the most recent and last thank you he ever got from his friend, along with a twenty dollar Barnes and Noble gift card. 

He'd used it to buy an autographed copy of _Skybird Falling_ , and he could still see the look on the author's face when he told her that he was Anakin Skywalker's grandson.

He took another drink of coffee, and then set the mug down on the table, and focused on his breathing. It was a perfectly lovely day in July, and he reached into his back pocket, pulling out the sheet again and spreading it on the table, then pulled his phone towards him. “We're doing this. We can do this.” He unlocked the phone, glanced at the number on the sheet and quickly dialed it. “How does this even work?” He mumbled and a moment later, he heard a click on the other end.

“Good morning, Lake Shore Animal Shelter, this is Janice, how may help you?” The girl on the other end sounded far too happy for this hour of the morning.

“Hi. My name is Ben Organa Solo, I was calling to see about adopting a cat.” He mentally congratulated himself for not hanging up. “Would it be possible to do so today?”

“Absolutely. Now, are you looking for a cat or a kitten?” Janice's voice still sounded far too eager. Maybe she was a cat person too.

“Cat. Not that I have a problem with kittens, but they're usually cute enough they don't have to worry about finding a home. I'm looking for a cat that needs a home.” God, could he sound anymore pathetic? He almost expected cheesy music to start up and find himself in the middle of some stupid Hallmark movie. 

“That's fine, Mr. Organa, we have several cats who are looking for a family.” There was a clicking noise, he guessed it was her typing on a computer. “Are you able to come in at one-thirty this afternoon, that's our first open appointment.” 

“One thirty is fine. Do I need to bring anything with me?” He had next to nothing in terms of pet care. Not that she needed to know. The unknown cat was welcome to use the couch as a scratching post, the damn thing was older than him. 

“For a cat, you need to bring either a plastic or cardboard container, should you choose to adopt today. You'll be given a list of things you will need to purchase as well.” There was more clicking. “All right, Mr. Organa, we have your appointment marked. We'll see you later today, and we look forward to helping you find your perfect match of cat. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Janice.” He replied and heard her hang up. He took a breath and then scrolled through his contacts, stopping at number four. “This could be interesting.” He waited all of two rings before it was answered.

“Please tell me that bitch is not back.” Gwen Phasma didn't even say hello. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine, Gwen.” He took a breath. “Uh, strange question... you going to Pets Mart this weekend?” 

“I'm in Colorado, BB. But I know that Leslie was going to take Alder there.” There was a soft chuckle. “She's smitten with that fur-ball. Why do you ask?”

He took a breath before answering. “I'm going to get a cat today. I'm going to need things.” 

The woman let out a half-laugh. “If you tell Leslie that, you won't have to wait until this weekend, she'll take you this afternoon.” she paused, “forget that, she'll take you to the ASPCA or wherever you're going. Give her a call, I know she's working from home today.” 

“I don't want...” He didn't want to inconvenience the woman.

“Nonsense. You have people who care about you, Benjamin. You give her a call in the next five minutes, because if you don't, I will call her and then she'll be at your door.” 

Ben knew better than to try and win this conversation. He took another drink of coffee. “Fine, I'll let you go and call her.” As he heard Gwen hang up, he smirked. “Doesn't matter, that woman will take the stairs and be here before I can finish this cup of coffee.” He took a sip and hit the fifth contact on his list. He wondered how fast it would take Leslie to answer. Two rings and - 

“Do you need me to provide an alibi?” 

“No, Leslie, I'm going to get a pet and need...” 

“Wait, wait right there, I'm coming down.” She answered, “you're decent, aren't you?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You're married and would it even matter if I wasn't?” He heard her shuffling around. 

“True. Be down in less than ten minutes!” She hung up and he was left staring at his phone. 

“Where do people get all this energy?” 

*

Ben gave Leslie a sideways look as the pulled into the parking lot of the animal shelter. In the past three hours, they had gotten everything they needed for the unknown cat, and the over-socialization was starting to bother him. His apartment now had a litter-box, a scratching post (the woman wouldn't accept his statement that he had no issues with the cat clawing the furniture), food and water dishes, and cat food. He didn't even have the pet yet and his home was already set up for it. He glanced down at the cardboard container they'd gotten. “You know, people get lobsters in these kinds of boxes.” 

“So get a red cat.” She beamed at him. “I think this is just what you need, Benjamin.” 

He looked at his hands. “Doctor Andres told me the same.” He sighed and they got out of the car. “Said I needed something to worry over, or something along those lines.” 

“You never had a pet growing up, did you?” they went around towards the door. 

“No. I didn't actually think of asking, either.” He held the door open and they walked into a brightly painted waiting room. He went up to the receptionist. “Good afternoon, I'm Ben Organa-Solo, I have an appointment?” 

The grandmotherly looking woman raised her head and then seemed to do a double take. “Gracious, you're tall.”

He was used to this. “Yeah. Still surprises me at times.” 

She beamed and then turned to her computer. “Let's see here... Organa...” She typed away for a moment and then caught sight of Leslie. “Are you with this young man?”

“Yes.” Leslie answered. “They don't let animals on the L all that often.” She took the kennel. “I'll have a seat and let you look in peace.” She went over to one of the chairs and pulled out her phone.

“Think it's service animals only on the L.” She turned and went back to her screen. “Here you are.” She rose to her feet and came around the desk. “This way.” She opened a heavy wooden door and the sound of barking echoed towards them. “Goodness.” They went down a short corridor, away from the barking, and into another room that smelled strongly of Lysol. “You have a look around, Michael will come and find you in few minutes.” 

“Thank you.” Ben stated as she walked away.

This was a new kind of hell. 

In front of him were rows of kennels stacked three high, all of them occupied by one or two cats, some with as many as three, most of them letting out rather indignant meows, and, much to his relief, ignoring him. He stepped into the area, going towards the nearest set of cages. Two gray tabby cats dozed in the top one, oblivious, while a tailless white one washed itself below them. On the bottom were two calicoes, one in the litter-box and the other watching it. He turned behind him to see a batch of kittens in the top cage and pair of tuxedo colored ones below them. 

No, nothing here. Pulling a tissue from the pocket of his shorts, he moved through the room, wondering how the people who worked or volunteered here could stand to see this. All these animals, needing homes. It was heartbreaking. He glanced at the small cards outside each compartment, telling the cat within's age and name, or at least, the name it'd been given here, he guessed. While he thought all these creatures needed homes, he didn't see one that needed _him_. These fluff-balls deserved better than a manic depressive with almost as many issues as National Geographic. 

A distinct and solitary chirp caused Ben to turn around. It was so different from the meows surrounding him, and he looked behind him when the sound repeated itself, and he shifted his gaze down, he saw a face peering out of him, the front paw of the cat pressed against the door. “Oh, hello.” He crouched down and got a better look. 

On the other side of the cage was a small fluffy mass of black. No trace of white, gray or brown anywhere, from what he could tell. He glanced at the card on the side and snorted at the name. “Midnight? How original.” He put his finger against the door and the cat put its paw up again, chirping in that odd tone that set it apart from the others. “You don't look like a Midnight to me.” He glanced back at the card and his eyes widened. “Your birthday is December twenty-third?” 

Midnight chirped and stretched, showing off a tail that could be mistaken for a Swiffer duster.

“We'd definitely have to do something about that name. It's terrible.” He settled back on his feet, almost sitting on the floor. What he'd call his pet hadn't even come to mind in all of this. The animal sat down, scratching behind its ear, then shook its head and chirped again. “Yeah, you want out of there, don't you? Stuck in cage, all these noisy neighbors. It'd drive me crazy too. ” He glanced at the cage above, where all he could see was a mass of orange tabby fur, and he wrinkled his nose. The color reminded him of Armitage Hux. “Bet you yowl all night.” He shook his head and looked back at the cat in front of him, and instantly remembered another red-head, a fictional one whose beauty was always mentioned, and her dark haired little sister everyone barely looked at.

“Mr. Organa?” A voice called, and a moment later, a thin man with blue hair appeared. 

“Hi.” He answered. “You must be Mike.” 

“Yeah.” He came over and crouched down next to him, grinning. “How are you doing, Midnight?” The cat chirped and Ben could swear he could hear the 'lousy' in her voice. “Would you like to hold her, Mr. Organa?” 

“Love to.” He moved back so the man could unlock the cage and he expected the animal to bolt, but instead waited to be picked up by Mike, almost looking dejected as she was set in her arms. Now, out of the shadow of the cage and into the light, he saw that his assumption was right; she was completely black, but her fur ran the gauntlet of the shade from jet to onyx. Dumb as her name was, Midnight was the essence of the name. “What's the matter, Little Miss?” He rubbed her behind the ears.

“Too many people having issues with black cats.” The man shook his head. “Hardest to find homes for, the idea that they're bad luck or some nonsense.” He reached down and shut the cage door. “She likes you.” 

Ben was about to ask how he knew that when the cat licked his chin. “Oh, is that how it is?” He shifted his arms so he could get a better look at Midnight. “You're so pretty, I don't know why anyone wouldn't want to take you home. What kind of kitty are you?” Fuck, what was he, ten? Thank God Leslie wasn't in here filming this with her phone.

“She's a Maine Coon.” Mike answered. “These are the cats that don't hate water.” He laughed, “and have no issues with Chicago winters. She'll be three in December.”

“I saw that.” He beamed. “We have the same birthday.” 

“Seriously?” The man bent down and pulled the card off the cage. “Mr. Organa, I think you're smitten with Midnight here. And your hair matches too.” He scritched the cat's head again. “Did you want to look at any other cats?”

He shook his head. “No, I think this young lady is exactly right.” He smiled and the cat licked his chin again. “Aren't you, Arya?”

*

“Here we are.” Ben set the kennel-box on the floor of his apartment, making sure the door was firmly shut and locked behind him. “Home.” He undid the top of the case and his new pet, demure and serene on the entire ride home up the elevator, promptly bolted and knocked the box on its side in her bid to escape. Arya rolled head over tail, stopped long enough to look from him to the nearest door, that of his office, and ran for it. Rather than go after her, he shook his head and let her go. The windows didn't open and the door was locked, she could run around in circles and never find a way out. “Crazy kitty.” He tucked the box next to the mat, knowing he'd need it to take her to the vet on Tuesday. 

He turned just in time to see a black shape race back out of his office and under the dining room table. 

“I bet you need a good run, locked up in that awful place for so long.” He took up the paper bag that the shelter stated were his cat's 'things' and went over to the table, opening it. “What do we have in here?” What did a cat own anyway? Out of the bag came a leash and harness, and he almost laughed at the idea of getting either on the animal. Right now, he'd be lucky if she stopped long enough for him to show her where her bathroom was. There was also the towel he'd seen her lying on in her cage, a hairbrush, and lastly, a cloth ball that jingled when he shook it. “Okay then.” He tossed it onto the floor and Arya immediately dove out after it, both cat and ball sliding on the hardwood floor. “Yeah, go ahead and play.” 

Shaking his head, he went into the kitchen and pulled a Monster out of the fridge and went back to sit on the couch. He popped the can open and took a long swig, then sat back to watch the animal make another attempt at catching the toy, and the ball rolled across the floor, hitting his foot. A fraction of a minute later, so did the cat. She shook her head and chirped, rising up on her back legs and clinging to his shorts with her front ones. “Yeah.” He reached over and rubbed her behind the ears. “Is that how it is?” He managed a smile. “It's just us, Little Miss.” He picked up the ball with his other hand and saw she was watching it, not his face. “What are you up to?” He glanced down and then tossed the ball towards the hallway.

Ayra went off after it, trying to find her footing on the floors and he laughed, leaning back. If nothing else, she was a funny kitty. He felt a tug on his shorts and he glanced down to see the cat looking up at him expectantly, the ball back at his feet. “Oh, you are clever.” He tossed the ball again, and back off she went. This time, however, she encountered the door to Aunt Sabe's room and instead of coming back out with the ball, and he heard her chirp distantly, and he shook his head. “Get something to worry over, Ben.” He went around to the other door of the bedroom, and when he opened it, the cat skipped out, content as you please. “Leave that open.” He scooped her up before she could get too far. “Best show you around while I have the chance.” 

*

Ben laid on the futon, his arms folded as he stared up at the ceiling, knowing the position wouldn't bring rest any swifter. He took a deep breath, silently telling himself he didn't need to sleep in here. He could go back to his room and his bed and everything would be perfectly safe. Bazine Natal hadn't been in this apartment or his life for three months, and he'd done his best to expunge all traces of her from this place. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, wondering if he could do it. The physical act of getting up and going into his room and lying down in his bed sounded so simple in principle. He went in there all the time to get his clothes, to change, to do all that typical bedroom stuff.

Except sleep.

The sheets, the bedspread, the pillows, the mattress cover – the whole thing had been cleaned, purging it of his ex-girlfriend's smell, but not her memory. He sat up, hugging his pillow to him. The only thing stopping him from going in there was himself. “Too big of a step.” He muttered and looked around the room. He'd dated Bazine for nine months and she had never been in this room. Or rather, they'd never been in this room together. 

Safe.

He looked down at the still open doorway of Aunt Sabe's old room, another safe place, but yet he never slept in there. It was a room for guests. “Come on, you can do this.” Still hugging his pillow and adding his Cubs blanket as well, he walked down to the door and slipped into the guest room, standing in the darkness for a few moments. Bazine had hated this room, had constantly badgered him to do something with it, and he'd remark it was on his to-do list. Of all the things he had done wrong in his relationship with that bitch the one thing he'd done right was not let her move in with him.

“We can do this.” He set his pillow with the others near the headboard and spread out his blanket, then slipped under the covering. He closed his eyes, almost laughing when he realized the nearest throw smelled like his grandmother's soap; a comforting scent that proved to help a little. “We need sleep.” He muttered and then jolted as he felt something brush his leg and he looked down to see Arya stretching out next to him. “Wonder where you were before.” He yawned and closed his eyes. “Good night.” 

The cat chirped again. 

*

“Set boundaries early.” He read aloud from the book on cat care and then looked over at Arya, who was giving herself a bath in the early morning sunshine streaming into his office. So far this morning, they had both eaten breakfast, he'd gotten dressed, praised his new companion for using her litter box, and resolved to sleep in Aunt Sabe's room for the rest of the month. “No parties, Little Miss.” He smirked and flipped through the pages. “You can sleep wherever you want, except the closed toilet seat or the kitchen counters.” 

The animal responded by licking her front paw. 

“Silly thing.” He shifted in his chair, wincing at the popping joint. “I've had enough of the growing up, I'd like to start filling out now.” He smirked. “Probably need to eat more.” He skimmed the rest of the chapter, but it dealt more with how to raise a kitten, rather than what he had; the feline equivalent of a pre-teen. “Guess we can skip the whole part of you getting out of the house, because that will never happen.” He chuckled and looked up to see that Arya had gone very still, and was looking at something out of his line of sight. “What?” 

The cat suddenly surged forward and slammed into the window, yowling with indigence as she fell to the floor and he saw a pigeon take off. 

He dropped the book and leaned down, gathering her up. “You can't catch that, Little Miss. And we're nowhere near the ground.” He cradled her against him like she was a baby and she twisted in his arms as he saw the bird return to the sill. “You don't want to catch it either.” He adjusted his hold and she hissed at the pigeon, and he kissed the top of her head. “I fed you two hours ago, are you already hungry again?” 

Ben sat down on the top of his bookshelf, and Arya pressed her front paws against the window, making a series of angry noises at the bird on the side of the glass. “I know, terrible, ugly things.” He shook his head as his cell-phone went off and he hit the accept without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” 

“Good morning, this is Mike Landry, from the Lake Shore Animal Shelter, is this Ben?” He sounded tired. 

“Yes, is something wrong?” He set a hand on Arya's back as the cat growled at the bird. 

“Standard check-in call, it should have been in the paperwork. What's that noise?” He coughed. “Excuse me.”

“There's a pigeon on the other side of the window that Arya would like to eviscerate.” He scoffed. “But there's double pane glass and it won't open either.” 

There was a pause. “Are the windows able to be unlocked?”

“No, they're painted shut and we're seventeen stories up.” He quipped. “The windows were new during the first Reagan Administration.” The cat got back onto the shelf and started watching the bird again, a few more had joined it, and he resisted the urge to hit the glass to scare them away. “All the windows in this apartment are the same.” 

“She's not hurt, is she?” His voice came across as a mixture of professional and worried. 

“No, I think she just really hates these pigeons.” He scowled. “Rats with wings.” He looked down at Arya, who was sitting perfectly poised, that Swiffer sized tail sweeping back and forth. “Yeah, she wants those birds dead.” 

“Other than the birds, has everything else been working?” Mike asked, and Ben almost wanted to tell him to bugger off and leave the two of them alone. 

“So far everything's great.” He paused. “Are you going to be calling every day?” 

“No, Mr. Organa, we just call after twenty four and seventy-two hours, unless you call us first.” He paused. “You have a nice weekend.”

“You too.” He replied and ended the call. “maybe you should take his next one.” He shook his head and dropped the phone, catching Arya before she could launch herself against the glass again. “Let's go find you something safe to play with. Away from these mean, mean birds.” He tucked his phone into his back pocket and carried her out of his office. 

*

Saturday nights, Ben did laundry. It was his routine and didn't feel the need to break it. Arya had shown zero interest in what he was doing, although he had checked to make sure she wasn't hiding in the basket each time; he didn't want to take any chances. She'd been eating dinner when he put the first load in and had ignored him most of the rest of the time. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her in a while, nor had she been making any noise. It was just after nine, a little too early to think about going to bed. 

He tossed the last of the folded socks into the basket and gave a disgusted look at the television, where the Colorado Rockies were turning the Cubs into hash. “Come on guys, do you have to make it this bad?” He glanced down at the feed and cursed as he saw the Red Sox had lost to the Yankees. “Not a good weekend for baseball, it seems.” He stood up and carried his basket into his bedroom, putting his clothes away as quickly as he could. 

He may have expunged the scent of Bazine from it, but he couldn't rid himself of her memory. 

_“Get back in the bed, Ben. Now.”_

He reached out to grab his dresser and missed as he fell to the floor, the phantom pain of fingernails digging into his back and a sharp twist of his scalp from having his hair pulled. 

_“What are you crying for? You're not bleeding. Real men don't cry.”_

Panic seized him and he curled up, struggling to remember where his phone was. His leg twitched and pain bloomed as it struck his dresser. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. His eyes widened and the room was starting to go white. He barely managed to roll onto his side, maybe if he made enough noise, the people in sixteen-A would come up to investigate.

_“The fact that you're an amazing fuck doesn't negate the fact you're utterly pathetic at everything else.”_

He let out a whine, and felt himself start to shake. The last time he had a panic attack, he'd lain on the floor of his apartment for hours before someone came to check on him. What if the people downstairs were out for the evening? Almost full panic was upon him now and he had trouble thinking straight. All this progress, it wasn't going to help, back to square one, he'd fucked up, _again._ He was _always_ fucking up.

“Merow!” A sharp sound jolted through the fog of his mind and suddenly something soft and warm was pushing its way under his arms. Ben jerked and a moment later, he felt a rough tongue on his cheek, and there was Arya, chirping constantly, licking away his tears. 

He was too startled to push her away. 

Instead, he set a hand on her back, letting her carry on and slowly, oh so slowly, the panic seeped away. 

“Good kitty.” He mumbled and Arya nuzzled against him, purring. “Thank you.” He let his eyes drift closed, letting the tension in his body ease. He'd had his cat for only a day, and he already knew there was no way in Hell he'd ever take her back to the shelter. “Sorry I'm such a mess.” 

Arya chirped and started kneading her paws against him, purring even louder.

“But I guess I'm your mess, huh?” His laugh ended in deep coughs and he decided that the floor was a perfectly good place to sleep for now. The idea of moving sounded exhausting. “Good night, Little Miss.” He smiled and felt Arya push her head under his chin, still purring and kneading against him as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
